


The Dragon's Deal

by Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)



Series: The Ending of One Legend, the Beginning of Another [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo Carries Dragon Eggs, Blood Drinking, Eggpreg, Eventual Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, I just discovered that tag, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sort-of, Symbiotic Relationship - Hobbit & Dragon (Past)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:44:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo remembered the legends. Of great beings who helped protect them and, in exchange, a Hobbit would bear their young and raise them as their own.</p><p>He just hadn't realized they were true.</p><p>(At least, that's what he told the Dwarves.)</p><p>((Originally titled "The Dragon's Eggs"))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Deal is Struck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Syxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syxx/gifts).



> The "Mildly Dubious Consent" tag is mostly because of how it could be read, despite the fact that how Bilbo carries the Dragon Eggs relies heavily on Bilbo fully consenting of his free will, but how it feels while being read, especially with Bilbo's thoughts, could be seen or felt as Dubious and so I put the tag in there, to be on the safe side.
> 
> *~*~*
> 
> This draws from two prompts, but I can only find the one...
> 
> [Bilbo Lays Dragon Eggs](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/8973.html?thread=19342861)
> 
> The other says, "what if it was that there were no female Hobbits?"
> 
> And goes on to explain some dress in dresses to either hide this unique biology, or just 'cause they want to.

Bilbo's heart is pounding as Smaug the Terrible corners the entire Company, giving them nowhere to run.

He is larger up close, filling up the space so there is nowhere to run, yet at the same time is keeping himself far enough away to keep the Company from hitting him with anything.

It is still too close, in Bilbo's opinion, as each inhale nearly sends Bilbo stumbling into his snout while each exhale nearly sends him back into the Dwarves behind him. Smaug growled lowly, the sound making the stone vibrate below Bilbo's feet, and Thorin stepped forward, as if he could kill the menacing dragon, only for Smaug to snarl, smoke curling out of his nose. "Be still, Dwarf, or I will turn you into a  _snack_ ," Smaug warned lowly, before he focused down on them all.

"And the only reason I haven't yet is because you have, in fact, brought me something I need," Smaug rumbled and Bilbo scrunched down, trying to hide, knowing exactly what, or rather _whom_ , Smaug was referring to.

There were legends (history) told in the Shire, of great beings who, in exchange for protecting their ancestors within their ancestral homeland, unmarried Bearers bore their young.

Bilbo just hadn't realized those 'great beings' were...dragons.

Very big dragons.

He had been thinking Men (difficult but not…life-threatening), but this was…

Daunting.

“And what, beast, is that?” Thorin demanded and Smaug snarled in warning, hot air that was near burning washing over them.

Bilbo’s toes curled at the heat, and he tried to duck behind Balin, trying to hide. “Speak like that to me again and I _will_ devour you, consequences be cursed!” Smaug near roared and Bilbo cried out as he clapped his hands over his ears, feeling them twitch under his palms with distress.

Smaug growled lowly, smoke escaping from his jaws, the stones vibrating to the point of making Bilbo’s feet itch, before he drew back as if he seemed to suddenly remember that he needed them alive. “You have brought me a Bearer for my young and that is the reason you remain alive,” Smaug answered, his tail twitching slightly at having to explain himself.

Bilbo considered covering his face with his hands and groaning over the _stupidity_ of Dwarves…again, when Thorin snarled out, “There are no women in this Company and if there were, we would not trade her for your use!”

Smaug snarled back, the heat increasing in the small space and Bilbo resisted the urge to groan once more. “I never said _woman_ , I said _Bearer_! There is a difference!” Smaug snarled as Thorin glared.

Smaug, however, was already looking away from Thorin and instead found Bilbo, pinning him with his great golden gaze.

It made Bilbo think he was a mouse and Smaug a very large cat crouched at the mouse hole, except…more desperate, if at all possible. As if this was the last chance, if not the _only_ chance, Smaug would have for something that only Bilbo could give.

If the histories were entirely correct…Bilbo was pretty sure he might be.

But, now, Bilbo could feel other eyes upon him, intent and picking apart what was said.

 _Translating_ what was said.

“What of it, little thief? Will you do as your ancestors have done before and bear the young of a Fire-Drake?” Smaug questioned and Bilbo suddenly felt as if he were freezing cold, even as the heat rose around him.

The silence rung in the wake of Smaug’s words and then…

All of Mordor broke loose.

* * *

It took time, and patience Bilbo was sure Smaug had magicked out of thin air, to get the Dwarves calm again. Smaug, after the talking, had not spoken again and Bilbo rubbed his arms slightly. “Why should we just hand Bilbo over to you?” Kíli demanded as he hauled Bilbo into his protective grasp.

The young Dwarf ignored both Thorin’s demand he keep quiet and Smaug baring his teeth at Kíli in response to him touching Bilbo at all, let alone pulling him close. “The Dwarves could return to the Mountain, unharmed and with full access to the treasury. Lake-town would _not_ be burned to the ground for helping you, as starters. The rest is up to Mr. Lucky Number,” Smaug answered, his voice rumbling through the air.

“And if he refuses?” Thorin asked suddenly.

“I will allow you to you leave peacefully, but I will guard this Mountain till my death and no Dwarf will ever enter these halls again to gather the wealth of time past whilst I live,” Smaug answered with a fluid shrug of his wings.

“And how long will that be? One-hundred years, a thousand?” Fíli demanded and Smaug growled low in his chest.

“Camp out in Lake-town and find out!”

Bilbo covered his ears as what was basically a roar with words blasted down on them and Bilbo felt as if the weight of the words were crashing onto them. He shivered a little before he slowly removed his hands and stared up at Smaug, who was breathing heavily. His wings had flared to help fill the space and Bilbo was horrifically reminded of the fact that Smaug was…well, a dragon.

A great creature who had come from the dark frozen wastelands of the North and decimated the home of his friends.

His ancestors had once had dealings with dragons, but now Bilbo did not understand _how_.

Had something changed?

Were dragons different back then, or were they always this way, but Hobbits just needed safety and, if the histories were entirely correct, were completely willing and even _happy_ to bear the young of their protectors.

And now Smaug was watching him, even as the Dwarves protested over letting (not that there was any _letting_ involved and, when he wasn’t feeling so swamped, he would have _words_ with the Dwarves later about that) Bilbo do this, even as Bilbo let his thoughts drift to Thorin.

Why in all of Arda did Bilbo love this Dwarf?

The blasted Dwarf was rude and harsh. He did not appreciate all that Bilbo had done for him, _and_ his Company. The Dwarf even had the _nerve_ to _complain_ when Bilbo rescued them. Rescued them at great personal risk to himself (which Bilbo was pretty sure Thorin had no idea about) all because it wasn’t to _his_ satisfaction! The Dwarf was entirely impossible and yet, even as Bilbo ranted in his head, bemoaning his stupidity over falling in love with the unreachable Dwarf, he knew the answer.

It was because he was in love with _Thorin_. He was not in love with the King, nor the Warrior, but the _Dwarf_ , which included crown and sword. Bilbo had fallen in love with Thorin’s gentle smiles and warm eyes and soft resonating voice.  Bilbo had fallen in love with the way he held himself when he was _just Thorin_ , and nothing at all like the King (though there was something striking about _that_ as well).

It was _Thorin_ who had thanked Bilbo quietly and without pomp or circumstance while at Beorn’s. It was _Thorin_ who had been gentle and kind, sharing small pieces of his past that Bilbo had cherished more than any sunny day.

It was _Thorin_ who Bilbo had seen interact so gently, even as King, with his nephews and who could _never_ love a silly little Hobbit from the Shire, for all that Bilbo loved him with all his overly gentle heart.

Sometime, in Bilbo’s thoughts, Bilbo had found himself staring at Thorin.

Thorin, who was the only Dwarf who said nothing; the only one who did not even look at him, when Smaug laid out the price for Erebor at their feet.

Who had given up _everything_ for Erebor, for the Quest, for his people.

And then his thoughts turned to the Company.

Fíli and Kíli, who had never seen the home of their forefathers, and Balin who had watched the dragon burn them out of their home. Had Dwalin seen Erebor, or was he born away from it? What about Óin and Glóin? Was this kingdom something they remembered or was it just a story to them?

Bofur, who had said that they had no home and his cousin who had gotten an ax to the head somewhere along the way to finding one and Bombur, who had a family somewhere Bilbo thought.

And what about Nori, Dori, and Ori?

Nori who had, most likely, started stealing to keep himself, Ori, _and_ Dori fed. Dori who fussed, but had a wicked sense of humor under all that fear that he would lose what was left of his family to something that he could not protect them from and…

Bilbo remembered the feel of warmth and respect and…

These Dwarves were his friends, his _family_ , and they deserved to have a home and a place to feel safe. A place that could not be driven from or have taken from them, ever again and he remembered their tales of the Hobbit's original home and how they had to run without the protection of the “great beings” in their otherwise ideal home.

Bilbo looked slowly back up at Smaug, thinking of his family of Dwarves, and took a deep breath as he made his choice.

“I agree to bear your young and be mother to them, on the condition I may change my mind if I find the final terms disagreeable,” Bilbo answered, his voice ensuring silence so still that it was loud.

And then the protests broke out anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not. One. Word.
> 
>  _Anyway_...
> 
> I came up with this idea that Dragons are, basically, magical asexually reproducing alligator-seahorse crosses with wings that breathe fire. Smaug kind-of explains it, but he's a Dragon. He doesn't _have_ to explain.
> 
> Also, despite how adorable the idea of Hobbit/Dragon babies is, I was already imagining adorable little baby dragons that kind-of look like mini-Smaugs who are all cuddly and adorable with Bilbo, yet ready to tear anyone who so much as _thinks_ badly about Bilbo apart.


	2. Discussion of a Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um....inter-species sex alluded to, kinda?
> 
> Also drinking of blood for magical properties, but not a lot (and isn't shown in this part, but discussed).
> 
> Fudge if I know how to tag this madness.

None of the Dwarves were happy with Bilbo’s answer. They argued with Bilbo (as if they had any say, at all, about _his_ body and what he chose to do with it) and tried to get him to change his mind, which seemed to amuse Smaug beyond all reason.

He watched it all with a silent air about him that spoke of one who was used to winning. “Enough!” Bilbo shouted as Óin tugged him over to look at the Hobbit, as if that would answer everything.

When that didn’t end the arguing, and repetitions of asking them to be quiet and _listen_ , failed, Smaug’s amusement died. With a low snarl, Smaug lifted his head slightly, much like a snake posing to strike, and let out a roar loud enough to have Bilbo crying out in pain and scrambling to cover his ears.

Smaug snarled into the silence and leaned down. With gentleness that seemed impossible for him, Smaug carefully gripped Bilbo’s jacket in his jaws and pulled Bilbo back to rest between his paws.

“Listen to the Bearer of my Young,” Smaug intoned as his head weaved slightly from side to side and Bilbo twisted around to glower up at the dragon.

“ _Tentative_ yes!” Bilbo reminded the dragon, who merely snorted, some smoke coming out of his nose at the action as he shifted his body to make himself seem to loom even more over the Dwarves and one Hobbit.

“Now, I am not insane! I do not need my brain looked at and I am not being _charmed_ by Smaug! I’m _immune_! All of my kind are! It was the only way we could do what we do for the dragons! Well, apparently the dragons. Really, this is something right out of legend for me,” Bilbo answered and Smaug grumbled lowly.

“You moved,” Smaug retorted and Bilbo ignored the Dragon.

It wasn’t the time to hash this out.

“But…he…huge,” Ori explained and Bilbo tried not to think about it.

“Well, I am pretty sure that if this would kill me, it would not be in our legends. We would have left long before we did if that were so,” Bilbo retorted and refused to explain what that meant.

“But…Thorin, say something!” Kíli protested and Thorin finally shifted.

“What can I say? The Burglar has decided and it is unlikely that anything we say can change his mind, so let him do what he wants,” Thorin responded in a deadened tone and Kíli protested slightly until Fíli covered his mouth, gently pulling him away from the immediacy of the situation.

Bilbo said nothing in response, as the lack of emotion in Thorin’s voice had Bilbo wondering how Thorin truly felt. It hurt, to think that Thorin might have considered how this would benefit Erebor and Bilbo pushed those thoughts to the side.

It would be fine, he was sure.

* * *

“You don’t have to do this, lad,” Balin stated as he hesitated at the doorway.

All but Balin and Thorin had left by now, some just hugging Bilbo tight like they were afraid of never seeing him again, while others tried to convince him to change his mind.

The statement was not entirely unexpected and Bilbo looked away from where Thorin stood, glowering up at Smaug, to smile at Balin. “I know,” Bilbo answered.

“We can wait for Erebor. Smaug can’t live forever,” Balin pressed and Bilbo nodded in agreement to the statement, though not the intent behind it.

Balin sighed and seemed to search for something in Bilbo’s eyes. “You won’t change your mind on this, will you?” Balin asked.

“Not yet,” Bilbo answered as Thorin stormed past them, nearly falling in the gold twice when he misstepped.

Bilbo resisted the urge to laugh at that and focused on Balin, a little surprised when Balin placed his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders. The elder Dwarf ignored Smaug’s warning growl, even as Balin whispered, “We won’t think less of you if you leave with us.”

Bilbo smiled and pat Balin’s hand. “According to our legends, it isn’t that bad. And it is nice to know,” Bilbo answered and Balin gave him a sad smile before he squeezed Bilbo’s shoulders, and then he was gone, headed down the path to Ravenhill as the others had before him.

The others that were not Thorin for the Dwarvish King had stayed behind and, even now, stood in the doorway. Bilbo stared at him, and Thorin stared back. He looked ready to say something, his jaw clenching slightly and then he was gone, disappearing into the darkness beyond.

“That is reassuring,” Smaug rumbled and Bilbo turned to look back up at the dragon.

“What is?” Bilbo demanded.

“Four, at the very least, strong and willing guardians for you, for I doubt any other Dwarves will be as understanding as your companions,” Smaug responded as his tail twitched so that it was half buried within the gold.

Bilbo felt his heart thump in his chest and he stared up at Smaug, who was searching for something amidst the gold. “I must stay here?” Bilbo asked.

“I am close to death, but not so close. I suspect I will not be ready to die till you are past the point of being able to travel comfortably, or safely, and I cannot, will not, fly you back to your new roost with a hoard calling to me at my tail. It is not in our nature, as you so well know,” Smaug answered, his wings shifting as he continued to search.

“Legend,” Bilbo protested softly.

“Yes, and such a pretty lie it was too. You would not be nearly so cooperative if it was legend, as you and I both know. A species that enjoys the comfort of everyday things does not put themselves out of such comfort without reason to know its truth,” Smaug responded, pausing in his searching to look at Bilbo, a translucent eyelid sliding across his eye briefly before he turned back to his search.

“And as we both know, I do not know how this will work! You are huge and you could easily kill me by accident at the size you are! How will I carry your young and bear them if I cannot even fathom how this will work?” Bilbo demanded.

Smaug huffed and began to, carefully, pull a chest out of the gold. “When I was younger, and had energy to spare, I used some of it to change my size. Lessons taught by my own Bearer are hard to ignore, even when I thought all hope lost. Dragons have magic, some more than others. Those with too little never gain the drive to search out a Bearer and those that have enough magic lessen every year. I have hope that my young will carry the necessary magic, but…if they do not, I will not be around to be saddened, so I will just think of a future with magic-bright young that will learn of where the Bearers have gone and continue my line,” Smaug explained as he nudged the trunk over to Bilbo, as an offering that Bilbo ignored.

He knew an accepting of the gift would be a full acceptance and Bilbo wasn’t ready to do that until he had all the details he needed to make a fully formed, consenting, decision.

“Why your line, specifically?” Bilbo inquired and Smaug grinned, or grinned as much as he could.

“I am the last of the Great Dragons,” Smaug responded, his wings twitching before they lay across his back once again, and Bilbo immediately understood, lessons having to do with 'lines' returning to him at the prompting.

“Ah, right. Well, explain how this is going to work. I am guessing by your earlier words that you can become small enough not to kill me instantly should we try anything intimate, but there must be more than that,” Bilbo answered and Smaug nodded before he settled so that he and Bilbo were not so vastly separated by distance.

“It is much more. You know the first part; your complete and utter consent. To the knowledge and full understanding of what will take place, the commitment to my young, that become our young, then yours, till they are of age. They will be part of any family you may have after they are hatched, and that’s where you are lost. Of course, because part of the agreement was the lack of writing down anything for this,” Smaug stated, his front paws twitching slightly to bury themselves in the gold and Bilbo nodded.

Smaug grumbled and sighed. “From what I remember of what I was told, and what I saw, Bearers carry the young, which will form into eggs within your body, for 250 days,” he explained.

“I’m going to lay _eggs_?” Bilbo asked and Smaug stared down at him as he seemed to do a full body flex without moving from place.

“You would never survive a live birth. We _fight_ coming into this world. You would be torn to shreds were you to actually give birth,” Smaug retorted and Bilbo felt his face pale at the thought.

Smaug snorted softly and sighed. “There’s other things you may find…disturbing. The first being the fact you must drink some of my blood,” Smaug stated as his head bobbed slightly and Bilbo flinched a bit at the knowledge.

“Drink your _blood_? Whatever for?” Bilbo demanded.

“For your protection. I’ll probably lose slight control and ingesting of dragon’s blood will keep you safe from any fire that I spew out in a moment, or any hot-enough-to-burn air that I may exhale, not to mention smoke. There should be something to help ease the way in the trunk, as I cannot help with that. It takes a great deal of energy to shrink myself and I can only hold it for so long. I am old, almost too old, to do so for longer than needed,” Smaug stated in a way that was deep and almost…annoyed as his wings shivered before folding so flat against his back that it looked painful.

Bilbo nodded slightly at the description. “How will this be done?” Bilbo asked, watching as Smaug seemed to do a full-bodied twitch.

“When I…shrink, we’ll have to see. That’s the only problem. If I was younger, I could reassure you that my form would become more bipedal, maybe akin to a short Man, but at this age? Even asleep sixty years, I do not think I could handle as such. If I remain in a form similar to this one, you will need to be on your hands and knees and for that I apologize. You deserve better than that,” Smaug stated, his tail flicking as he stared at Bilbo.

“There is mention of that, of things being…off sometimes in the pairings. I don’t think we ever expected to find you again,” Bilbo answered and Smaug hummed softly at that thought, even as he lowered his head to stare at Bilbo, the translucent eyelid flicking across his eye a few times as he regarded Bilbo.

“Do you know of after?” Smaug asked as his wings did an odd shrug before settling once more.

“If you mean if I know the, ‘I’ll be exhausted, and shaky and need sleep, water, and food and in that order,’ then yes. If that is not what you meant, then no,” Bilbo answered.

“I meant that. And you’ll probably smell like smoke after,” Smaug answered and hummed softly as he briefly lifted his head to glance around the treasury.

“How do you know that?” Bilbo asked as he leaned back slightly on his heels.

“My Bearer bore twice and I stayed longer than most. That might be why I have so much trouble now. Used up a great deal of magic in my youth to the point of it being shaky now,” Smaug mused and shook his head slightly, all of his eyelids closed.

When his eyes opened again, Bilbo merely smiled and Smaug let out something akin to a chuckle as his claws dug into the gold slightly. “He bore twice, however, to two different dragons. My own Dragon sire and another that came after. He slept for a great number of hours, that second time, and then nearly emptied his pantry as I got him a great deal of water. I left before the eggs were laid, however, because I knew I would smash them otherwise. I went North and that was the last I saw of my Bearer,” Smaug answered his wings shifting into what Bilbo supposed was a relaxed state.

“ _Crushed?_ ” Bilbo squeaked as he tensed as he hugged himself tight.

He was suddenly worried for the future of any children he may or may not have (that he hoped to have; a hope that had never died even when he was left to live alone) and Smaug’s wings flexed slightly. “I did not approve of the second dragon and, as such, I did not wish his young to live to see the outside of their shell. I knew my Bearer would be crushed if I did such a thing, however, so I left before it became an issue. When young, Dragons do not have a great deal of self-control and not much more when older,” Smaug responded.

Bilbo didn’t say anything about that, deciding that Smaug already knew who he was and what he was like. That, and Bilbo agreed with him, and reaffirming it would probably only pull them away from what they needed to talk about. “How will I know how to take care of them?” Bilbo asked.

“That is part of it. There is an incantation that I say at the beginning, over the goblet I’ll put my blood in. It helps. You keep your wits, it won’t be like alcohol. As you carry our young, mine in blood and yours in choice, overpowering needs will take you down what needs to be eaten and such, like cravings and nesting desires. Watching my Bearer do that was amusing for me, for I had never seen him so picky about anything before. You’ll have all the normal pregnancy signs, were this a normal birth, but amplified so our young will have the nutrients they need. After, this same drive will guide you through the egg-caring, or at least that was what my Bearer told me when I asked him how he knew how to take care of me and my siblings,” Smaug responded as his head twitched slightly as his tail slid through the gold.

“What happened to them?” Bilbo asked before he could censor himself.

Smaug huffed a bit, his wings twitching slightly at the question. “They were cold-drakes,” Smaug rumbled and Bilbo couldn’t stop the frustrated sound that escaped his throat.

“They did not have the magic to spark the drive to find a Bearer and continue their line. I was the only one to have it, of the five of us,” Smaug explained quickly, that thin membrane flicking across his eye a few times.

“ _Five_?” Bilbo asked, fully distracted by the number.

“The clutch is usually from two to four eggs. Not many, as too many threaten the life of the Bearer. Somehow, there were five. I hope for less for you. I remember how my Bearer was right after I hatched, still exhausted from laying five eggs and needing help. He was probably a rarity in that size. You will not nearly lay so many…I hope,” Smaug answered and his wings flared before they flattened against his back, his head twitching to the side slightly as he considered.

“I’ve never hoped for a small clutch before,” Smaug added quietly.

Bilbo sighed as he watched Smaug and then rubbed his hands over his face. He then turned to the trunk and before he looked up at Smaug. “Will it hurt?” he inquired.

“Some. I hope not too much, but there is only so much I can do to help. My magic can’t help with anything in that regard. My blood will also keep you from getting burned by me being so close. The smaller I am, the more heat that will escape,” Smaug added and Bilbo nodded, wondering if the repetition and twitching were signs that, quite possibly, Smaug was _nervous_.

Smaug sighed and stared intently at Bilbo. “Our young will need to approve of any future mate you take, or your children _will_ be at risk. They cannot help it,” Smaug warned lowly.

Bilbo nodded in understanding and faced the trunk once more. With a long sigh, he placed his hands on the lid, wondering on one more thing. “Is there anything to ease the way?” he inquired, twisting to look back at the dragon.

Smaug sighed softly and let out a low rumble that was almost like a loud purr as his entire body seem to release tension that Bilbo hadn’t even known was there until it was gone. “Youth meant hope and more magic. I put a preservation spell on the trunk, so everything in it would be frozen in time till it was opened. The oil in there was very specific in the aid of such acts,” Smaug answered and Bilbo nodded as he faced the trunk once more.

He stared down at the lid and turned his thoughts around in his head, though he did not open the trunk. Smaug was asking a lot with little reward for Bilbo, beyond returning Erebor to the Dwarves. It would be hard on Bilbo, he knew that, and he couldn’t return home to his comforts. “There must be something we go over. I am trapped here, on the wrong side of the Mountains, far from where my home resides. You have already told me that you will not leave your hoard to take me back to bear our young there. As such, there is something I must ask of you,” Bilbo stated.

“Protect your Dwarves? That will already happen. It would be foolish to leave you without protection,” Smaug answered and Bilbo nodded sharply.

“Keep them _alive_ ,” Bilbo retorted and Smaug snorted.

“That might be hard to do, considering they don’t like me,” Smaug stated.

“Keep them alive…and find a way for me to send a letter to home so I can tell my relations that the ‘great beings’ were waiting on this side of the mountains, or one of them at least, and I am now Bearing his young,” Bilbo continued and Smaug hummed lowly.

“The Ravens will help, I am sure. Few know Common, but one of them will help you in return for what you have done for the Mountain,” Smaug explained as his tail slid through the gold, making that clinking, sliding, sound that his tail through gold made.

“Anything else?” Smaug asked.

“You don’t burn Lake-town to the ground, you don’t burn Mirkwood to the ground, though that one is tempting, and if someone decides to lay siege to the mountain, you won’t just fly out and incinerate them. The Dwarves need future allies and having you kill them all does not a good relationship make,” Bilbo stated.

“Incineration has improved many of my relationships with others,” Smaug stated and Bilbo snorted slightly, swallowing his laughter.

Doing so, however, had him dissolving into coughing and Smaug shifted so he was curled around Bilbo, in a manner of speaking. Bilbo figured it was as close as he could get to being comforting. “You also have a bare spot, on your left breast, perfect for an arrow in one shot to kill you, so I request that you fix that so you don’t die on me before your time,” Bilbo stated and Smaug shifted slightly in the gold.

“I’ll try,” Smaug responded and Bilbo closed his eyes as he considered.

“I need you to understand that if I do this, I won’t just lose time, I might lose the home my parents built together, the place I grew up, the _memories_ there if they chose not to believe the Raven,” Bilbo stated and Smaug let out a soft exhale.

“I…can understand, in a way. I do realize that times have changed, that maybe you don’t need us anymore,” Smaug stated, even as Bilbo shook his head.

“We have often mourned the loss of our protectors, but we have made do. We are still not fighters, we still live in peace. We survive because that is what we do, but we have mourned the protection that you brought,” Bilbo stated and he sighed as he hung his head slightly.

Smuag was a silent presence. “If I ask later, and you are still around, will you consider what I ask of you?” Bilbo stated.

“Do I get the right to say no?” Smaug returned.

“Yes,” Bilbo stated.

“Of course,” Smaug answered and Bilbo nodded before he turned to Smaug.

He stared at the red-gold dragon who watched, eyes guarded, that translucent film back over his eyes, and Smaug was so obviously hesitant, though _why_ Bilbo didn’t know. “Is there a way to contact my home, if the Ravens can’t convince them that you could give me?” Bilbo asked and Smaug pulled back slightly before he looked to the side.

“A one-shot deal. If the Raven fails, I will do it, but it will drain us both and you will need to rest a great deal, especially as you will be carrying our young then,” Smaug stated and Bilbo nodded once.

He considered everything. “And what I ask, with you having the right to say no?” Bilbo inquired.

“Correct,” Smaug stated.

“And the Dwarves can return and they can use the treasury, even when you still draw breath?” Bilbo inquired and Smaug let out a rumbling sigh.

“Correct,” Smaug responded tightly, his entire body tensing once more.

“And they’ll live?” Bilbo continued.

“As best as I can manage, yes,” Smaug stated and Bilbo felt his heart ease.

Bilbo sighed and nodded once. “Then I, Bilbo Baggins, will Bear the young of Smaug the Magnificent,” Bilbo stated and Smaug let out a low rumble-purr again, all the tension leaving the dragon once more.

“I, Smaug, do accept one Bilbo Baggins’s offer and all the entails,” Smaug responded and Bilbo smiled as the last of the tension rolled out of Bilbo’s own body.

With that, Bilbo gripped the trunk lid and opened it to reveal that it was packed with furs and linens that smelled freshly packed. Bilbo was sure that, under the furs and linens there were pillows as well, though he couldn’t be sure as he stopped after opening the trunk.

For there, on top of all the cushioning, was a bottle of oil that sat there with deceptive innocence.

He picked it up and resisted the urge to sniff at it before he carefully slid it into his coat pocket. Nest first, prepping second, and Bilbo promptly reached into the trunk to start pulling things out, only to pause upon touching the furs.

Oh…that was _nice._

“Do you need any help?” Smaug asked, some minutes later, amusement coloring his every word.

Bilbo flushed and grabbed the trunk handle, once reassured that the lid was lightly closed. Only then did he drag it after him as he began to search for a protected spot to set up where they would ‘mate’ in Bilbo’s, relative, comfort.

His smial, Bilbo was sure, would be a much better place, but dragons and their hoards could not be parted except by death and Bilbo, for one, wasn’t going to hurry that death along.

* * *

“Thorin, pacing will not bring Master Baggins back to us any quicker. He will either show up in the next few minutes or tomorrow morning,” Balin stated, but Thorin ignored him.

Emotions coiled and rolled in his stomach, making him feel ill.

He had just _stood there_ and said _nothing_! He hadn’t protested, hadn’t apologized (not that he would apologize, because he had not the words for that), hadn’t done a _thing_! How…how could he have just _stood there_ and let Bilbo sell away…

“I should have said something Balin!” Thorin snapped.

“You heard what Bilbo said about it. We could not change his mind once he made it,” Balin stated.

“I should have said something. He must think I actually weighed Erebor against him!” Thorin responded.

“I am sure if you explain the shock, he will apologize for ever thinking such a thing about you,” Balin stated.

Thorin huffed and sat down to glare down the dark tunnel. Behind him, dinner was being set up, and the Ravens were talking in hushed voices, but Thorin didn’t wish to participate in either activity.

Balin sighed, but left him and, soon after he left, Dwalin joined him, caring for his weapons. “I guess this means that Bilbo chose to bear the Dragon’s spawn,” Dwalin stated and Thorin growled at the reminder.

He didn’t like thinking about it and the less he had to think about it, the happier he would be.

But tomorrow he would know for certain and some part of Thorin, the only part not devoted to screaming at Thorin for saying nothing, whispered that it was a price worth having another pay, to have Erebor returned and the Arkenstone put back and…

Thorin squashed those thoughts as best he could, but a small portion of them survived anyway, despite Thorin’s attempts to the contrary.

And he couldn’t help but wonder what that said about him that he had those thoughts at all, let alone that, no matter how hard he tried, he could not remove them completely from his brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a rash of ideas for my original works, so all my fanworks were put on hold.
> 
> Sorry for the cliffhangers I left people with.


	3. Sleepless Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS part has the actual blood drinking and implied inter-species sex.
> 
> (Yeah, I was so not writing it.)

Bilbo began to hum softly as he pulled everything out of the trunk to set up along near his chosen corner, closing the trunk lid once he was finished pulling everything free from it. He hid his smile at Smaug's sigh as Bilbo began to set up some pillows in the corner, mostly to get a start on a 'nest'. "Why the corner?" Smaug grumbled and Bilbo glanced over his shoulder to see Smaug's wings flexing slightly while he nudged the goblet he had picked with his claw.

Bilbo shook his head slightly at that and turned back to the corner. "This has the least amount of gold in it," Bilbo stated as he lay the first layer of linens over the pillows.

Smaug sighed again and Bilbo could hear that distinctive 'scale across gold' sound before Smaug asked, "Do you need help?"

"No, thank you," Bilbo answered as he began to figure out what to do.

He eventually settled on more pillows, putting them on the linen, followed by laying one of the thicker furs over the pillows, followed by another layer of linen. Mostly because he didn't want to have to clean the fur out later, but a small part of him also didn’t want to actually have his bare skin touch fur all over. It would be too strange, too different, for him to relax enough to do this. His face flushed at the thought and he began to shift some more of the pillows about by touch before he began to turn the bedding into a real nest, burying the hardness of the coins under the softness of the furs and linen until all he was left with was the really  _nice_ furs that had been on top and a few pillows that were able to be added as need be. "Is it to your satisfaction?" Smaug asked as he leaned forward and Bilbo nodded.

“Good,” Smaug answered and pulled back.

Bilbo turned around just in time to watch as a drop of blood slipped from Smaug’s tongue and dropped into the goblet. The deep-red dragon hummed lowly and Bilbo covered his ears as words grew in volume as they echoed around the treasury. With the words still ringing in Bilbo’s ears, Smaug carefully placed the goblet on the lid of the closed trunk.

“When you’re ready,” Smaug stated and Bilbo swallowed pointedly before he took the slightly large goblet with both hands.

Steam rose up from the goblet and he could smell the fire and ash that came from the blood. With a minute shudder, he raised the goblet to his lips and drank it down as fast as he could, the blood a hot, near blistering, burnt tasting thickness that coated his tongue. He shuddered again and set the goblet, shining as if it had never held anything at all, back on top of the trunk lid.

Smaug rumbled happily and Bilbo began to undo his coat belt.

* * *

Thorin stared down the pathway, fingers drumming restlessly against his thigh, nerves strung tighter than Kíli’s bow.

Bilbo had stayed the night and now Thorin couldn’t even fathom sleeping, as his Company now was. Well, his Company minus one very important member.

One very important member who was right now, with the dragon, getting…impregnated by said dragon.

Thorin’s brain was trying not to think about it too much, because he couldn’t comprehend how that even _worked_ or how Bilbo could just _let_ …

_Better just this, just spawn. They can be gotten rid of later, so that no Dragon will reside in Erebor again._

Thorin bit back a snarl and shot up to his feet, wincing when the sudden movement caused Fíli, the Dwarf closest to him, to twitch before he pulled Kíli closer in sleep, settling once more.

Why was he thinking these things?

Thorin let out a shaky sigh and sat back down, drumming his fingers on his thigh again as he stared down the passageway. Within the Lonely Mountain, Bilbo…

Thorin had wanted to confess everything, once the Mountain was reclaimed, once his heritage was set in stone, and now…

How could he ever confess those feelings to Bilbo, confess his desires, when Bilbo obviously didn’t feel the same? How could he tell Bilbo that he held Thorin’s beating heart in his hands when…when _that_ was happening in the Mountain with someone, _something_ that was _not_ Thorin?

And he was not jealous.

He was not jealous of the Dragon taking yet _another_ thing from him and he was _not_ angry over the fact…

“Uncle,” a voice mumbled and Thorin’s head snapped over to find Kíli staring up at him sleepily, Fíli soon joining in the staring.

“You’re thinkin’ too loud,” they mumbled out, their words slurring together, even as they traded off oddly.

“Go to sleep,” Thorin responded and his nephews whined and mumbled before they twisted around each other more to continue staring up at him.

“Stop thinkin’ first,” Kíli mumbled before he buried his head into Fíli’s shoulder.

“Then we _all_ sleep,” Fíli continued.

Thorin shook his head before he joined them on the ground, unsurprised when he found himself being cuddled up against. Both of his nephews would be mortified in the morning, having both sworn to give up _cuddling_ with their _uncle_ , but for now Thorin ran his fingers through their hair.

But his eyes never strayed from the pathway.

How long would this take?

And how would they insure it took only one time?

Oh, Mahal preserve him, what if this happened a few times over? What if…

Thorin was jerked from his thoughts when a weight landed on his shoulder. “Be at peace, King Thorin,” Roäc murmured and Thorin let out a long sigh.

“Why are you up, Roäc?” Thorin questioned and Roäc looked toward the nearest opening in Ravenhill.

“Why, King Thorin, it is already dawn. You have spent the night waiting for the Gentle One to return,” Roäc stated and with a beat of his wings, he was soon taking off with the rest of his family, flying out into the early morning light.

Thorin blinked at the streaks of gray before he heard shuffling and soon Bombur snorted awake. Thorin, however, had his eyes glued to the dark pathway, with no sign of Bilbo coming out of the dark and Thorin wondered if it was all a clever lie spun by Smaug to trick Bilbo so he could eat the Hobbit and…

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something poke his side and he twisted around to glare down at the perpetrator to find that it was his nephews, together, who had poked his side. “Breakfast,” they murmured as one and slowly extracted themselves from him before they stumbled over to where Bombur was pulling out the cram.

The loss of the ponies, and actual food, meant cram ration and Thorin mentally flinched at that thought. Bilbo still hadn’t fully recovered from his illness in Laketown, or the month of running around in the dungeons of Mirkwood…and he’d never thanked Bilbo, had just complained about the _how_ and Bilbo had puffed up, all anger and sarcasm and looking back, Thorin should have realized that Bilbo was getting sick then and later, while he sneezed and coughed, he had apologized, and Thorin…Thorin never had and, truly, how could Thorin expect Bilbo to ever return his feelings?

He knew his thoughts had derailed, he knew that he shouldn’t be turning over in his mind all the ways he had belittled the Hobbit (who had no reason to be here, had a home, and warmth and everything), and that maybe spending the entire night awake was not for the best but…

Movement through the shadows broke Thorin out of his thoughts and he focused on the shadows as Bilbo shuffled out of the dark. He had a fur wrapped around his shoulders and the acrid stench of Dragon fire clung to him as he stumbled into Ravenhill filling Thorin’s nose as he leapt to his feet to keep Bilbo from hitting the ground face first. This close, he could see the way Bilbo’s lips were cracked, yet not yet bleeding, and heat rose off of Bilbo’s skin as if he was burning with a fever once more. He shivered slightly and Thorin pulled the fur tighter around Bilbo’s shoulders.

The Hobbit looked up, slowly, at Thorin, his eyes unfocused and he whined before he buried his face into Thorin’s chest. “Sleep,” Bilbo mumbled and Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo as the Hobbit slumped further against him.

“Anything you need Bilbo,” Thorin promised softly as exhaustion pulled on his mind.

His vision was getting a bit off, even as he carefully laid Bilbo to rest on Thorin’s own bedroll before he carefully tucked the fur a bit more around Bilbo’s shoulders. He paused to run his, shaking, fingers through Bilbo’s curls and then pulled back.

He had no right to touch Bilbo, not with the way he had treated the Hobbit and he sat back against the wall, eyes roving over Bilbo’s sleeping form. Each glance had Thorin blinking slower and slower, until he didn’t open his eyes again, having fallen asleep sitting up.

Because Bilbo was there and Thorin could, finally, relax.


	4. Entering the Lonely Mountain

The sun was a quarter of the way to its zenith when Bilbo let out a low whimper that quickly dissolved into a cough, which instantly woke Thorin with a jerk. Thorin looked around slightly, still exhausted as Bilbo slowly began to move, his entire body trembling, before he slumped back onto the ground. Kíli was immediately at his side, shooting Thorin wide eyed looks as he carefully helped Bilbo to sit up, supporting the Hobbit as he continued to shake. “Water,” Bilbo rasped out and Thorin handed over his own waterskin, his entire frame trembling slightly.

Kíli uncorked it and helped Bilbo to drink it, keeping him from drinking too fast, though some of it still spilled down Bilbo’s chin to soak the collar of his shirt. “Bilbo, where’s your coat?” Kíli asked, even as Bilbo shook his head slightly and tried to draw more water from the skin.

“I think he’s going to need more water,” Kíli stated nervously as Thorin’s waterskin emptied and Bilbo nodded tiredly against Kíli’s shoulder.

“Lots, unfortunately. There’s…there’s a river, down a ways. Smaug says it is clean and, if you don’t trust him, there are pots for boiling water if need be that are in the kitchens,” Bilbo rasped out, Kíli already accepting Balin’s waterskin to press against Bilbo’s lips once he was finished talking.

“Anything you need Bilbo,” Balin stated as Bilbo grasped at the waterskin with trembling hands, Kíli carefully monitoring the intake.

Balin, however, was not paying attention to that, instead focused on Thorin, one eyebrow raised in surprise. The Dwarf-king didn’t notice, however, rubbing his eyes slightly as he tried to stand, which had Balin giving a tiny nod in understanding.

Dwalin, already knowledgeable of the problem Thorin was facing, had crossed over and helped Thorin to stand while Kíli kept a close eye on the waterskin to help insure that Bilbo didn’t drink too fast and end up sick. “Dwalin, set up a group to head down and start a water cycle,” Thorin ordered and Dwalin nodded once, even as Kíli began to motion for another waterskin.

Nori held his out to Kíli, even as Kíli glanced at Thorin, obviously confused. Balin gave a small shake of his head, but Kíli was already distracted, giving his thanks to Nori for the waterskin as he kept Bilbo from _inhaling_ the water. Bilbo actually started slightly when the water left the skin and Kíli managed to keep it from spilling as Bilbo paused, more shivers wracking his (slight, too slight) frame. “Mint. Where did you get mint?” Bilbo rasped and Nori grinned a bit.

“Oh…here and there. It keeps the water tasting fresher,” Nori stated and Bilbo nodded slowly before he was grabbing at the waterskin again, his need for the liquid overriding his ingrained instincts to be polite.

Kíli barely managed to keep Bilbo from choking on it, and soon he fell into a pattern with Bilbo, even as he wondered why it was _him_ doing this and not _Thorin._ Balin shook his head again at Kíli, who seemed slightly oblivious of that, as he focused back on Bilbo.

By the time the sun was halfway to its zenith, Bilbo had turned his desperation from water to desperation for food instead.

Thorin did not hesitate to hand over his ration of cram and Bilbo began to eat with the fervor of a starving man given a banquet. Once again, Kíli did his best to keep Bilbo from getting sick as Thorin had left Bilbo’s side to instead stand next to Balin and Bombur to discuss rations, now that Bilbo was obviously in need of a great deal of food. Another skin of water was pressed into Bilbo’s shaking hands in the break between cram pieces, and Kíli was relieved to see that Bilbo wasn’t in need of monitoring, even though it was obvious he still desired a great deal more water than he already had.

Thorin glanced continuously over to where Kíli was helping Bilbo to sit up, his trembles growing slightly, even with all the cram and water he had swallowed.

By the time the sun had reached its zenith, Bilbo was slowing in eating and drinking, though he still obviously, desperately, wanted both food and water still. Kíli made a soft sound of distress as he registered that Bilbo was like a furnace in his arms and he twitched slightly when Bilbo pet his arm in what was probably supposed to be a comforting manner. “Sorry…just…side-effect,” Bilbo rasped out softly and Thorin was there.

Bilbo startled slightly to see Thorin so close, blinking rapidly, even as he felt a press of cool fingers against his forehead. Bilbo leaned into the touch slightly, thankful that he could blame rosy cheeks on the low-grade fever burning through him from his night with Smaug. “Do you need anything else?” Thorin asked softly.

“Food, water. More sleep. Warmth,” Bilbo murmured softly, smiling slightly when he felt Thorin’s hand shift so rough calluses pressed against his skin.

“We’ll work on it,” Thorin promised softly and he glanced up at Kíli before he stood with a slight sway, heading back to where the rest of the Dwarves waiting.

“Kíli?” Bilbo whispered and Kíli hummed, looking down at the Hobbit in his arms.

“I’m going to need more than cram,” he whispered before his eyes fluttered closed and he slipped into sleep once more.

* * *

The sun was a quarter of the way towards sunset when Óin walked over to where Bilbo was resting in Thorin’s bedroll, Thorin curled around him. They looked to be asleep, though Óin was pretty sure that Thorin was just dozing.

“How is he?” Óin asked softly and Thorin proved him right by looking up at him with tired eyes.

“Burning up. How is the water and cram supply?” Thorin responded, even as Óin, with a low groan, knelt down next to Bilbo’s sleeping form.

“Water’s fine. Cram’s fine. The problem is the fact that Kíli says that Bilbo needs more than cram,” Óin stated and Thorin let out a low curse as his grip tightened slightly on Bilbo.

“There’s another problem, Thorin,” Balin interrupted.

Thorin sighed and slowly tried to sit up, only for Óin to gently push him back down. “Don’t,” Óin warned lowly as he checked Bilbo over.

“We can’t stay here for much longer. You remember, as well as I, that winter comes fast to Erebor. Staying outside will not do any of us any good,” Balin stated and Thorin sighed, even as rested his forehead against the back of Bilbo’s head.

Neither of the Dwarves commented, knowing Thorin had not slept as long as they had wished and he needed a great deal of more sleep then he had had. Balin was sure that Thorin would be far more guarded once he got a few more hours sleep, but until then…

Well, it was nice to see, even though Balin knew it would not last. Once Thorin got some more sleep, he would be…brooding. “Just clean out rooms,” Bilbo croaked weakly, causing all the nearby Dwarves to jump and they stared at him.

Bilbo stared at them with a tiny smile. “You’re allowed in now,” he explained as his eyes slid closed once more.

“What about carrying Smaug’s young?” Balin asked.

“Already started. Thirsty,” Bilbo whispered softly, fingers twitching.

Óin handed over a refilled waterskin to Balin as Thorin slowly sat up, trembling nearly as badly as Bilbo as he helped Bilbo sit up. Bilbo didn’t seem to notice, though he happily accepted the waterskin and was drinking it contentedly as he sleepily leaned against Thorin, who leaned against the wall of the ravens’ home.

The ravens that had returned, at some point, in fact, and the fact it took Balin _seeing_ them for him to realize that made him wonder why they were being so silent. Bilbo, however, seemed to be trying to resist eating the cram Bombur had brought over. “Can’t. I’m hungry but…I can’t. It just hurts my stomach,” Bilbo mumbled softly and Bombur shot a helpless look at Óin, who was frowning.

“I need meat, but I don’t think there’s anything edible around here for…a few miles, at least,” Bilbo whispered, and he sounded exhausted, as if his body was being strung out.

Thorin stared down at Bilbo, looking just as tired. “Lad, what do you mean ‘already started’?” Óin demanded as he checked Bilbo over.

“Just takes once. Too many times is…dangerous, for us. For Hobbits. They…can’t hold the shape too long, so lots of magic is put into it. S’why I need sleep, water, and food, in that order,” Bilbo rasped out and Óin urged him to drink more water.

Balin shared a look with Thorin, who nodded a bit. With that Balin stood up and headed over to where the main group was, sending the Dwarves who were the healthiest to go clean out a section of rooms and make them useable.

By the time the sun was nearing sunset, Dwalin was supporting Thorin, Bofur was carrying Bilbo (who was eating cram once more), and everyone else had packed up, heading back inside.

To home.


	5. Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is an allusion to a threat of miscarriage, but it does not happen nor is it outright stated, but it is there.

Smaug inhaled deeply as he roused from his nap, one eye slitting open to find the Dwarf, Oakenshield (the name was one he had heard during one of his outings of the mountain, circling through the East, the Orcs cursing his name more than any other name before) staring down at him. With a loud sigh, Smaug shifted, feeling his wings flex and his third eyelid slide over his eye as a protective measure, as he lifted his head to face Oakenshield, whose glare intensified. "What Dwarf?" he demanded lowly.

"He's getting sick," Thorin stated and Smaug felt his skin twitch.

"He should not be, not yet," Smaug stated and the Dwarf bared his teeth at Smaug, as if whatever was causing the Bearer of Smaug's Young's problems was  _his_ fault, not the Dwarves.

Smaug let out a long sigh when Oakenshield continued to glower at him and he frowned. “What has he been eating?” Smaug asked.

“Cram,” Oakenshield grit out and Smaug snorted, lowering his head once more.

“That, Oakenshield, is the problem. The Bearer needs meat. Any kind-of meat will do. He will probably prefer fish, in fact, and there happens to be a lovely Man’s town down the river from this place that will be more than happy to trade fish for gold so, truly, this is not a difficult choice at all. Though, if you continue to give him cram, I cannot guarantee his health, let alone his life, thus I will be unable to guarantee that I will uphold my half of the deal the Bearer and I struck, so I highly suggest you go and take care of the Bearer of my Young,” Smaug answered, inhaling deeply at his last words.

He was rewarded by the near-salivating scent of jealousy that rolled off the Dwarf and Smaug chuckled lowly. “I’d hurry, Oakenshield. If his body is already rejecting certain foods, who knows when it will start rejecting _everything_ ,” Smaug added, though he knew that such a thing wouldn’t happen, but it was enough to have the Dwarf running away from the Treasury.

Smaug chuckled in a self-satisfied way and curled up with a rumbling sigh, slipping back into sleep. He still needed to recover from the…activities three nights ago and he had a feeling, deep into his very bones, that he was going to be needed very soon.

* * *

“How much do we owe Lake-town?” Thorin demanded as he walked from the direction of the treasury, his steps hurried.

“A tidy sum, to be sure,” Glóin stated and held his hand out to Ori, who, after a token protest, carefully removed a page from the notebook he was still carrying.

He also handed over his charcoal pencil when Glóin motioned a couple more times, this with more annoyed protests than before. “Let’s see. Supplies, lodging, and transportation. And I am sure our Burglar will want to have Bard more handsomely compensated from his share, but I’ll ask him over that a bit more when he wakes up again,” Glóin muttered, writing out four columns in which to write out the calculations.

Already Glóin began to write out numbers, huffing slightly at them, muttering lowly, even as he turned to Balin. “What should we pay it with?” Thorin questioned.

“To cover or to make them wish to trade with us at a later date?” Balin responded.

“We need fish, as it is the only meat readily available to us and _Bilbo_ needs it, or we’ll find ourselves being ousted out of Erebor once more by an angrier than before dragon,” Thorin responded softly and Balin sighed.

“We hadn’t expected his body to reject the cram, but it is for…” Balin began when Kíli suddenly barreled into Thorin.

Thorin easily caught him and supported him, even as Kíli panted for air. “Kíli, what is it?” Thorin asked.

“There are people marching to the Mountain!” Kíli gasped out.

“How many?” Thorin inquired.

“An army of them,” Kíli responded.

Thorin let out a curse in Khuzdûl and took off, Balin letting out a low groan before he quickly followed after Thorin. With a tiny groan, Kíli followed shortly after.

None of the Dwarves noticed when Bilbo slipped out of the shadows to follow them up to the gate.


	6. Of Deals and Kings (PTSD, Mention of Past Death)

Thorin frowned as he stepped up to the battlement, only to find it was two armies, not one, that stood upon his doorstep.He tensed when he realized that the second army was of Elves. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before he shouted down, "Who marches upon Erebor?"

He had an idea of who could be leading the Men to Erebor, but it was better to confirm before he made assumptions and statements. "Bard," the Man standing next to Thranduil, whose seasonal crown stood out even at this distance, answered.

"Bard, we were just discussing Lake-town's payment and opening of trade from Erebor down to Lake-town and...beyond. There was no need for you to march upon Erebor," Thorin called down, clenching his fists against the stone, hoping none below could see how his blood boiled.

He would listen. He had to listen, or Bilbo would possibly die. The image of Bilbo gagging as he tried to keep the cram down was burned into his brain and they needed the fish which only Lake-town could provide. He felt his shoulders tense as he heard Bard answer, "We could not be sure that your word would be kept, considering the roaring of the dragon was enough to have our docks tremble below our feet two weeks ago. We are glad to see you still alive."

Thorin grit his teeth at that, resisting the urge to throw insults down at the Man below.

Grave robbers, the lot of them, marching upon the mountain to steal from beneath their theoretical corpses, to leave their families thinking the dragon remained in the ancestral home, to never learn they were fully betrayed by all before the Mountain. That Dale would rise up again on Dwarven gold taken from their people, stolen in the shadow of death and Thorin grit his teeth all the tighter. "Even to do that, there was no need for an army, unless you were preparing to fight a Dragon when you considered it a fool's errand before," Thorin snarled, even though he knew he shouldn't.

They needed the Men of Lake-town and he resisted the urge to turn away to have Balin talk instead, even as he inhaled sharply, trying to rein in his temper. He knew if he turned away, the likelihood that they would work with the Dwarves, with the Company, would lower significantly. "That was just a precaution, in case the Dragon lived and wished to take his revenge," Bard responded and Thorin frowned slightly.

Thorin looked from side to side and took a deep breath. “The Dragon is no longer a threat. Send the _Elf_ back and we will negotiate trade terms,” Thorin ordered.

“The Elves are allied with us, and also desire that which is theirs,” Bard answered and Thorin bit back his snarl of rage.

"Send the Elves behind your lines and we will give you the money owed as well as negotiate long-term trade with Lake-town," Thorin growled out, doing his very best to rein in his temper.

He knew he was not doing a very good job, but he had to try. He could not court war when they needed peace. Thirteen against two armies, even with a Dragon behind them, was not something Thorin wished to do, even though a part of him, a small part that always flared at the worst time, hissed against giving the Men  _any_ gold. His honor, however, even in the face of this...disrespect, refused to let him back out of a deal he had made.

For now.

"They are our allies, supposed King under the Mountain. They will remain through all trade negotiations!" Bard responded.

Thorin snarled and was about to answer in a way that could easily start a war when Bilbo was there. He was pale, too pale, and there were shadows under his eyes. "Bilbo," Thorin breathed and startled slightly when Bilbo turned, leaning over.

"Bard, please, may we discuss this a bit at a time? A great deal of the treasure needs to be organized as Smaug just...piled everything up. It will take time to do that, but there is already a start for the payment to Lake-town. Won't you please just...settle the Lake-town accounts first so trade may begin?" Bilbo asked and Thorin stared at the slightly trembling form that was leaning over the battlement.

He didn't hesitate to step forward to keep Bilbo from accidentally falling, wondering when Bilbo had gotten up there. “Bilbo, I cannot slight my allies in such a fashion,” Bard answered and Thorin felt Bilbo twitch in Thorin’s light grip, even as Thorin’s temper rise.

He was about to snarl down at them that they had a poor choice of allies when there was a low growl the rumbled through the stone. Heat swirled through the air and there was a panicked sound below, even as Thorin dropped his head slightly, praying to Mahal that he could be interned in the stone he stood on as the soft ‘cling’ of gold coins hitting stone joined with the other sounds in the air.

Another low growl rumbled through the stone and Smaug was there, staring down at the group. His head rose even higher above them and he snorted, heat filling the air. Thorin felt Bilbo shift, trembling slightly as Smaug inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh. “In any other circumstances, I would make you all lunch. Realize now that that option is still available for me,” Smaug snarled.

“Now, as I have your attention, listen well. You have two options. The first is to listen to the surprisingly reasonable Dwarf and start up the trade of food and water from Erebor to Lake-town and get the gold you so obviously were willing to walk over _corpses_ to get and solve the Dwarf-Elf conflict that has been going on since the Elves’ Awakening at some other time. Or…so help you all I will burn Lake-town and Mirkwood to the ground and leave you all to suffer the winter without any protection. Am I clear?” Smaug snarled.

He then slowly drew back and paused long enough to lower his head right next to Bilbo. “Get. In. Side,” he ordered and Bilbo trembled slightly.

“What?” Bilbo asked.

“This is not for negotiation. You are tired, cold, and stressed. Get inside and join me in the treasury, as your room is obviously inadequate in keeping you properly warm. I will not lose my Young after so long,” Smaug growled and slowly retreated into the dark, though he did not go far.

Bilbo hesitated and looked back at Thorin, eyes wide, even as Thorin nodded and, slowly, released him. “We’ll be fine, laddie, I promise,” Balin stated and Bilbo nodded before he trotted off.

Thorin let out a long sigh and turned back those below, the two armies now closer to an army of Elves and trembling Men. “Send the Elves back and then we talk,” Thorin ordered and Bard called back his consent.

“Get the gold together, quickly,” Thorin ordered as he turned on his heel and headed to the front gate.

* * *

Thranduil’s mind shut down the moment the dragon’s head rose out of the shadows. He is unsure of how he remains breathing, let alone upright, standing beside Bard, while the Elves and Men react around them.

Centuries of training keep the Elves in position, the sound of bows being drawn filling the air. It is that calm air that keeps the Men from fleeing, and maybe even the fact Bard has pulled his bow out to be at the ready, staring up at the blood red head that rose above them all, that keeps the Men from scattering completely.

The voice that had come from the creature was deep and snarling, a reluctant threat and warning all rolled into one sharp sentence before he pulled back. The monster had paused, briefly, near the small one, the one called Bilbo that Bard had spoken to in a voice filled with warmth, kindness even, for such a grim man. And then the dragon was gone, with the small Bilbo shortly thereafter.

Thranduil had retreated before Bard requested it, knowing that it was folly to tempt a dragon to act on his words.

That the dragon would act on his words, if tempted, because the dragon still lived, he wasn’t just a theory in the dark, or a corpse amongst the gold.

The dragon still lived, and Thranduil felt his heart rate picking up speed as he gave orders on rote, pushed the thought of gems like starlight out of his mind. Sent his sons on a patrol with the Captain of the Guard in the farthest direction from the Mountain, farthest from the dragon and oh…Eru…

His sons.

Thranduil isn’t sure how he managed to get inside his tent, but that is where he is when his knees give out beneath him, sending him to the ground. He could feel his glamour slip away, revealing his true face, and shivered violently as everything caught up with him.

He felt frozen through to the core and lost in a way that he hadn’t since he had held his father’s corpse in his arms. Sounds of his camp gave way to the memory of the roaring of great beasts that burned the very air with their fire. All the filled his sight was the beasts as their claws sliced through the very rock and sent those around them flying and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't even feel the air around him and he clutched at his robe, trying to force air into his lungs, his throat scraped raw with every exhale.

The  _Dwarves_ had a dragon. Smaug remained within Erebor, guarding the treasure, and...and...

His chest was constricting in on itself and he was ready to just collapse against the ground, because he could see his sons perishing under the maw of the great beast that resided still within Erebor and…

He curled in on himself as he realized that this could become a fire-bath that could take all that Thranduil had left. And he could not lose his sons.

* * *

Bilbo twitched when he felt Smaug shift, a hazy exhaustion coating his brain over the fact he was _warm_ for the first time in a week. Maybe his room was a bit drafty, though he was starting to feel stifled with the heat that curled through the air and he grumbled when he felt Smaug shift again. “Your curiosity has dimmed already, Bearer of my Young?” Smaug questioned and Bilbo let out a long sigh.

“What?” Bilbo grumbled.

“Aren’t you curious about how I know your feelings?” Smaug intoned and Bilbo sighed.

“I figured it had to do with the magic and just wasn’t going to think about it because otherwise I’m pretty sure I’d exhaust myself,” Bilbo muttered as he buried himself into the warmth that Smaug was giving off in _waves_.

Smaug chuckled and there was that sound of scales slithering across gold, and suddenly Bilbo’s little bed he had made in the treasury (though it had been cleaned since that night with Smaug) was carefully surrounded by Smaug’s tail, creating a circular nest that Bilbo was undisturbed in. “Oh, Bearer of my Young…close enough,” Smaug answered lowly, tightening his tail slightly as that it bunched under the bedding materials to make it more nest like than before.

“Close enough,” Smaug purred and the confusion followed Bilbo into his dreams.


	7. The Armies March

Smaug's tail tightened slightly around the nest the Bearer of his Young had created as he awoke from his small nap, and lifted his head. He blinked a bit and inhaled, finding the intruder quickly and he eyed the Man that stood there, all dark and brooding. "You smell of your ancestor. He was quite...irritating," Smaug stated, but the Man did not answer.

Smaug was a bit surprised he had been allowed this far in, but who was to say the Dwarves knew he was here, standing there, staring at...

He turned his head to follow Bowman's gaze and looked back at him. "I'm not going to squish him. Right now, I find him far more valuable than most of the items within my hoard," Smaug reassured and inhaled deeply as the Man's rage curled in the back of his throat as a delicious taste.

Oh, if he had another century of this, he would be a happy dragon indeed, especially if he had a Bearer (or two) to go along with it. Greedy creature at heart he was and he twitched when he felt the Bearer of his Young shift within the nest. He inhaled one more time, saddened that the rage was gone, and turned to focus on the small one, brave, strong, Bearer that he was.

Smaug slowly curled around, focusing his attention on the waking Hobbit. "Smaug, be nice," he rasped and Smaug snorted softly as he drew back slightly.

"I am," Smaug retorted and carefully reached out with one clawed wing to, gently, scoop Bilbo up in sling made from the fur he wore all the time.

The Hobbit made a sound, which Smaug ignored, and he carefully deposited him at the Bowman's feet. He was immensely satisfied by the fact Bard instantly dropped down to his knees look at Bilbo a bit more closely, though Smaug growled slightly at the way the Man was touching Bilbo, helping to ease him into sitting up. That dark, malicious part of him hissed for Smaug to claim back what was his, especially as Bilbo started to _hug_  the Bowman.

"Bard," Bilbo rasped and Smaug growled a bit, even as Bilbo flapped his hand at him.

If he didn't need the Bearer...

"Bilbo, it is good to see you are all right. We brought a shipment of fish up; it went surprisingly fast. It turns out that you made an...impact during your two week stay," Bard explained.

"That's good. I really can't stomach anymore cram," Bilbo answered and Bard merely nodded as he brushed some of Bilbo's hair back.

Smaug didn't bother trying to stop the snarl, even as Bilbo muttered, "Be nice."

Smaug bit back a growl as Bard continued to physically check Bilbo over before pulling him close and cradling the Bearer of Smaug’s Young close, Bilbo curling into the affection. “I didn’t think the Company would like you back here. What are you doing back here?” Bilbo asked as he pulled back, Bard tucking the fur tightly around Bilbo’s shivering form, Smaug shifting so he was closer.

He practically purred when Bard flinched away from him. “I wished to check up on you,” Bard answered and Bilbo seemed to stare at him.

“You snuck back here like a cat on the hunt for a mouse didn’t you?” Bilbo asked and Smaug’s head snapped back with a laugh that shook the stone when Bard looked pointedly at the wall.

* * *

Bilbo was right. The Company had _not_ been happy to find Bard in the treasury.

Bilbo was sure that the only reason Bard wasn’t in trouble was due to the fact he had given Bilbo some dried meat. He wasn’t sure what _kind_ of meat it was, but it wasn’t cram, which made it the best tasting thing in the entire world.

Well that, and the fact that Smaug was watching over the pair with sharp eyes, growling lowly whenever Bard came too close to Bilbo or the steps down into the treasury, which had Bard flinching away from the stairs and just flinching when near Bilbo. “It is time for the Bearer of my Young to sleep now,” Smaug stated after a moment and before Bilbo had time to vocalize his protest (he had just finished the last bite of dry meat), he was being picked up.

Within seconds he was nestled against Smaug’s side, submerged in heat and darkness, the sounds of coins being shifted filling his ears as he sunk into his nest. He nuzzled into the fur with a sleepy grumble and sighed heavily. “If you were not literally so huge you could barely make it out the front gates, I would hit your nose!” Bilbo mumbled and Smaug chuckled lowly as he curled around Bilbo tighter.

Bilbo sighed and slipped into sleep, once again _warm_.

* * *

Smaug shifted as he heard the last of the Dwarves settle into sleep, the _King Under the Mountain_ (and how Smaug _despised_ thinking of that filthy, vile, _disgusting_ Dwarf as that) practically at the door of the treasury, and lifted his head from where it was tucked under his wing. He paused when he felt _his_ Bearer shift in his sleep, though lifted his head higher when Bilbo settled back into sleep.

He couldn’t move too much, Bilbo getting too cold too easily for that, and, instead, searched for that thin trickle of outside air that passed down this far. He carefully swung his head through the air, taking deep breaths until he managed to find it, pausing with a low growl as _that_ scent filled his lungs.

“Orcs,” Smaug growled as he curled tighter around his Bearer.

For a moment, instincts overtook him, dark and sharp, thousands of millions of void soaked knives that settled in his belly. He curled around more, shifting to poise protectively over his Bearer, smoke curling from between his jaws. He snarled and shook his head slightly, eyes focusing again on the gold.

His breaths echoed around the treasury and he slowly relaxed, making sure his Bearer was alright before he settled back in a curl around him. Good, he hadn’t started to breathe fire; he had just smoked, meaning no burns to treat.

Good, very good.

Now…how was he going to ensure that Bilbo remained warm and _safe_ when he slipped out in the night to lay in wait for the Orcs and other disgusting creatures that lay on the breeze?

* * *

Smaug was hardly surprised when no one noticed him move through the kingdom, down to the great forges to light them. It had been tricky, carrying Bilbo all that way and insuring that the Bearer was not harmed, but he had managed.

Above all else, his instincts, both those of a Dragon Sire and just as a Dragon had ensured that Bilbo hadn’t even woken, let alone anyone else. Once the fires were light, he left Bilbo nestled in the warmest spot he could reach (he was trying _not_ to add to their workload as Smaug would rather they fix everything so that this place would be _safe_ for the Bearer of his young), and then he slipped out, through the entryway he had once blasted apart. His wings shuddered as the cold assaulted them before he began his winding climb up the slopes of _his_ mountain, the clouds hiding the stars and nearly dark moon from sight.

He was a shade of a nightmare as he slowly climbed up the stone until he came to settle upon the peak, within the shadow, slowly conforming to stone.

If Orcs and Goblins thought they could raid _his_ mountain well…Smaug would just have to remind them why such a thing was a bad idea in the first place.

By the time the sun rose and spread across the sky, not even the Elves could find, with their eyes at any rate, any sign that Smaug had left the Mountain at all.

And that was just the way the dragon wanted it as he settled down to patiently wait for the battle to come.

* * *

The fires in the forges were blazing.

Thorin didn’t understand how that happened, as they had decided to wait to light the forges until they could be reassured that they could keep going but there they were.

Burning and with a far greater intensity than he had ever seen before. When there was a shift in the shadows, Thorin tensed, wondering what had snuck in when the figured shifted until they were sitting up, and in the light. “Bilbo?” Thorin questioned, fully sheathing his blade before he crossed over to Bilbo, surprised to see him nestled in his nest of furs and bedding.

“Thorin, why am I in the great forges? And where’s Smaug?” Bilbo inquired and Thorin could only shrug helplessly while he stared at the way Bilbo practically glowed in the fire of the forges with something other than cram and water in his belly.

And, as the dark part of his mind reminded him, with the Dragon’s Spawn in his womb.

It was with great difficulty that Thorin managed to silence it, mostly, this time, and he hopes, desperately, his battle doesn’t show on his face as he holds a hand out to help Bilbo to stand, offering a breakfast of fish.

Bilbo takes his hand without fear and Thorin mentally heaves a sigh of relief.

* * *

Thorin had been relieved when his cousin, Dáin, had answered his summons to come to Erebor for help and was now nearly there, but the Raven who returned with his message of being ‘on the wrong side of the tree-shaggers’ brought darker tidings. “Two armies approach, your Majesty. One is led by Azog and is entirely of Orcs and Wargs. The other is of Goblins from the Misty Mountains. They are coming here, for they seem to be under the impression that the Dragon has fallen,” Roäc stated and Balin raised an eyebrow.

“It has already spread so far that the Dwarves have reclaimed Erebor?” he inquired softly and Roäc gave a sharp nod.

“We have sung the tidings, and so have the Descendants of Dale. The Elves have not, but it is to be expected,” Roäc sighed out, his balding head lowering slightly.

“We had not thought such dark ears would hear them so quickly, but it seems that the Elfking has failed greatly in keeping his realm free of the Shadow,” he murmured lowly and Thorin reached out to gently soothe the Raven.

He and his kin had stayed at Erebor through a Dragon invading and the loss of all that was good. Had survived against all odds and he could not hold it against them to cry their joy to the skies. “You did nothing wrong, Roäc. Balin, call a War Council. We’ll inform Dáin as best we can,” Thorin ordered and Balin nodded before he quickly retreated, Roäc giving a quick bow before one of his younger children took over to be courier for Thorin.

* * *

“What’s troubling you Bilbo?” Bombur asked gently as he settled a bowl of fish stew in front of him.

It was only through a supreme force of will that Bilbo didn’t just drink it all down and damn how messy he would get. Or just inhale it entirely and refuse to answer till he had not only what was in his bowl, but what was in the pot as well, as it wasn’t cram and his body was _demanding_ more meat.

He managed, barely, however, to keep his manners about him and instead began to eat like a barely civilized Hobbit.

Bombur didn’t seem to mind and, in fact, seemed overly pleased that Bilbo seemed more focused on food than answering, giving him a second helping without even a whisper of admonishment. “I can’t find Smaug,” Bilbo stated between bites, resisting the urge to practically hum with pleasure at the fact he was having _meat_ again.

Ugh, he sounded like the…thing in the Caves. Best not think about that and just focus on the food and Bombur. “Maybe he was closer to dying than he thought. Is it good?” Bombur responded warmly.

“He would have taken me with him then, to return me to the Shire, before continuing to the Sea to plunge himself into the depths and die. And this is very good. What did you use to season it with?” Bilbo responded and Bombur rapped his ladle against the edge of the pot.

“There was dried thyme I traded a bit for. Why return you to the Shire?” Bombur responded.

“Ah. I wasn’t sure. And…it would be safer for me. Here, there is no one trained to help, I have to do it all by myself, essentially. Also…home. Surrounded by…well…green,” Bilbo answered as he let his eyes trail to the wall, thick with grime, and a shiver ran through his body.

Go home, alone, where the only family close to him, emotionally was nowhere near Hobbiton and having to Bear, alone. Another shiver wracked his body and he huffed a bit as he shifted his grip on the bowl of stew. “Maybe I would be warm again! I’ve been _freezing_ since…I don’t know, but I can’t seem to be able to stay warm unless I am in the great forges, and then practically pressed against them, or snuggled up against Smaug’s side!” Bilbo complained as he pulled the fur he kept with him at all times around him tighter.

Bombur looked like he was about to answer when Bofur ran in. “Thorin’s called a War Council!” Bofur exclaimed and Bilbo nearly dropped his soup bowl.

“What? Why?” Bilbo inquired, while Bombur settled a lid over the pot.

“Roäc came back with more than just news of Dáin being close enough to trade insults with the Elves. Azog and an _army_ of Orcs and Wargs are approaching, not to mention from the Misty Mountains, Goblins are coming to attack, probably in revenge for killing their King,” Bofur explained and Bilbo resisted the urge to confirm it.

There was a reason Hobbits stayed in the Shire after all and it was probably a very good thing that he had been knocked off the bridge to face the Creature in the Caves before being pulled before the Goblin King.

“What about Bilbo?” Bombur asked and Bilbo gave a look.

“Bilbo is going back to the great forges, so he can be warm and not get involved in things that make no sense, like wars,” Bilbo answered as he stood up, got himself another bowl of soup and walked out of the clean kitchen, heading quickly for the great forges.

The stupid walk was far too cold for his liking.

* * *

Thorin resisted the urge to glare when Thranduil unflurled a map across the table, though he managed. He had already had Glóin setting aside payment for the Elf King, even going so far as to find the starlight gems, and instead focused on the situation at hand. “We have two armies marching upon us, and they _will_ put us in a vice hold if we don’t prepare for them now,” Thranduil stated as Bard leaned over to look over the pieces, frowning.

“I don’t have fully trained soldiers. The Master wouldn’t allow that,” Bard answered softly and Thranduil gave a nod.

“Why doesn’t the…dragon stop them now?” Thranduil inquired and Bard glanced around the room at the mention of Smaug, as if though he expected the dragon to melt out of the wall.

“He’s missing. I can only assume he’s gone to die,” Thorin responded, hoping that was the case.

If the Dragon had gone to die, than maybe…

Thorin shook his head to clear those dark thoughts from his brain, even as Thranduil said, “It is not possible. My sentries, even the darkest of the night, would have noticed a dragon flying overhead towards the Sea. It is far more likely he has buried himself in the gold to hibernate and, when he awakens again, he will have forgotten whatever deal you ma—” Thranduil argued when Thorin interrupted him with a sharp, “I didn’t make the deal!”

Silence fell over the Council and Thorin focused on the map. “Who did then?” Bard asked, though Thorin ignored him.

Instead, he merely looked up from the map as Bofur entered, frowning when he saw only Bombur following. “Where’s Bilbo?” he inquired.

“Gone back to the Great Forges. He’s still complaining about being freezing,” Bofur answered and Bombur nodded.

“Very well. Now, Dáin’s people are here…” Thorin began, ignoring the looks that bored into the back of his skull as he began to outline the Dwarven defenses he was willing to show them.

They were, after all, Elves and Men and it would not do for them to know _all_ of Erebor’s secrets.


	8. The Eve of War

Smaug bit back a snarl as he felt a Shadow pass over him, wings tensing and almost flaring at the Touch of their Creator’s Chosen. He swung his head slowly, wings clasping down tighter as the Shadow tapped him, rattling him deeply, before rapidly retreating south.

Smaug trembled, inhaling and exhaling rapidly as he dug his claws into stone. Part of him wished to flee, old terror welling up in his stomach, quelled only by True Memories of his Youth, not False Memories of his Kind. The memory of his Bearer, smiling at him and coaxing him into his first real meal reminded him of the Bearer of _his_ Young.

With a low hiss, he quickly turned his mind inward, reaching across their connection forged by magic, making sure that the Bearer of his Young was not harmed by the Touch.

He nearly fell from his perch in relief when the Bearer was unharmed, even if he was troubled, and Smaug’s third eyelid flicked opened and closed rapidly as the dawn’s light slowly overtook the world.

The Orcs and Goblins would be here on the morrow and then…then he would attack, cutting off all escape.

After, he would have to be overly vigilant of any Shadow or the Beast of Gondolin would look a child’s companion compared to what would be twisted out of his remains.

* * *

Gandalf rode up into the encampment of the Elves and Men in the pale light of dawn, haggard and worn.

He had nearly fallen from the saddle instead of dismounting, Elves and Men alike quick to assist him. “I must speak with King Thranduil and the leader of Men. It is urgent,” Gandalf stated and they took him to the meeting tent without hesitation.

* * *

The ride up to Erebor, refuges at their heels was uneventful, beyond the fact that Ravens seemed to be far more interested in Gandalf than the Orcs, Goblins, Bard, or Thranduil. “I am gladdened to find that you have reached peace without outside influence,” Gandalf stated.

“I would not say that,” Thranduil stated calmly as he guided his Elk a bit closer, as if what he had to say was a secret.

“Oh?” Gandalf questioned.

“The dragon did play as a good motivator for us to get along,” Thranduil continued and Gandalf gave a small nod.

“Its death…” he began only to have Bard interrupt with a sharp, “It wasn’t when we first came here.”

“It is still alive, just hiding. I have told you before, my Elves would have noticed, no matter how dark the night, if a _dragon_ flown over their heads to the Sea!” Thranduil retorted coldly.

“The dragon is still alive?” Gandalf asked, sitting up slightly, as if this knowledge was enough to rejuvenate him.

“It was the last time we saw it. I believe that the Dwarves made a… _deal_ with the creature,” Thranduil hissed.

“I highly doubt that. Thorin holds a grudge against all Elves for how he perceives your actions on the day of the dragon’s attack. No, I suspect that…another, one who does not hold grudges, is the cause for Smaug’s change of mind,” Gandalf responded as they rode up to the gate, a shout causing them to creak open as they approached.

* * *

“He’s not dead Thorin!”

Bard frowned at the shout and picked up speed, leaving Thranduil, Gandalf, and the advisors behind as he did so. Bilbo seemed so soft spoken, so to hear him shout worried Bard, despite not having known him long.

“He has disappeared, Bilbo. There is no reason to believe that he remains,” Thorin argued back, even as Bard pushed open the War Room doors fully, frowning to see that Bilbo was even more bundled up than before, and standing in front of a Dwarven King who didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word of ‘personal space.’

“If he were going to die I would not be here Thorin Oakenshield!” Bilbo snapped, poking Thorin’s armored chest before he shuddered violently and hunched in on himself, under a coat and fur and numerous layers, wrapping them all closer to him.

Before Thorin could respond, Bard interrupted with a concerned, “Bilbo.”

Bilbo looked over at him immediately with a smile as Thorin flinched away from the Hobbit to stand over the table that held all the needed maps. “Bard, good to see you again,” Bilbo answered softly, facing everyone, even as Bard crossed over to him.

“King Thranduil, pleasure to see you once more,” Bilbo greeted through chattering teeth and Bard resisted the urge to just pull him close like he had with his children when they were ill.

Bilbo was an adult and he would be treated as such, no matter how he looked. “Gandalf!” Bilbo greeted and brightened noticeably upon seeing Gandalf crossing the room in shivering steps (though he paused to pat Bard’s arm quickly) before he stepped up to Gandalf, who immediately pressed a hand to Bilbo’s forehead.

The sigh of relief that came from the touch, however, had Thorin’s head snapping over and Thranduil raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I am suddenly no longer feeling like I’ve been plunged into snow. Not fun, you know, being plunged into snow,” Bilbo murmured softly and Bard crossed over to Bilbo, overcome with the need to see if Bilbo had fallen ill again, though he was comforted by the fact Gandalf seemed to be doing the same.

He had not questioned why Bilbo was with Smaug, but seeing how cold he was, maybe it was because the Dragon had…

_“Right now, I find him far more valuable than most of the items in my hoard.”_

The words seemed to ring in Bard’s mind now, at first considered only a lie, but now, seeing how frozen Bilbo was without the dragon nearby, Bard was stuck by a memory of his grandmother whispering tales of the Small Ones who had once lived close by, quiet and unassuming, except that there was always just _something odd_ about them, and how sometimes they seemed to be protected by magic.

Before Bard could ask, Thorin seemed to have regained his voice. “Glad to see your business came to a successful end,” Thorin stated.

“More or less. It is on that business that I have come, though I am glad to see that you are preparing for the Orcs and Goblins,” Gandalf answered, keeping a hand on Bilbo, who was now only occasionally shivering.

“You should really warn them about the fact a dragon is going to be dropping out of the sky,” Bilbo stated and Gandalf hummed.

“The dragon being alive was unexpected,” Gandalf stated and Bilbo gave a small shrug, even as he was ushered onto a stool that had been brought over by the Dwarf with the axe in his forehead.

Gandalf, who seemed partially distracted by the Hobbit, at least hadn’t let Bilbo go and even used the fact Bilbo was now seated to try and check him over. Bard barely managed to pull away to focus on the map, Bilbo patting his arm gently, even as Thorin turned his attention from the maps to give Bilbo a look. “The beast hasn’t been seen since he disappeared! Why do you insist on saying that the dragon is alive?” Thorin answered.

“Because I know he is alive, beyond me being here,” Bilbo responded tiredly, rubbing his temples a bit, even as Gandalf’s brow furrowed at something he had discovered.

“What possible way could you know if he was alive or not?” Thorin questioned.

“I don’t know _how_ , I just know he _is_ ,” Bilbo snapped and Thorin let out a sigh, before Thranduil crossed over to stand next to Bilbo, which had Thorin glaring.

“I agree with the Halfling. No matter the darkness, _my_ scouts would have noticed a _dragon_ leaving the Mountain,” Thranduil stated.

“I am a Hobbit, not a Halfling! I am not _half_ of anything!” Bilbo muttered, even as Thorin glared.

“Very well. We shall factor a surprise _dragon_ appearing out of the _sky_ into our plans,” Thorin gritted out and Bilbo smiled a bit before his nose twitched and he buried himself a bit further into his furs.

* * *

Thorin glared at the map, not even twitching when he heard the door to the war room open.

The Orcs and Goblins would be on them in the morning and while he knew no amount of planning could predict everything, he wanted to insure that their resources were spread as best as they could. There would be Dwarven, Men, _and_ Elvish archers along the walls of Erebor that were accessible and he twitched when there was a polite clearing of the throat behind him. “In a moment. I have a revision of Dáin’s numbers that I wish to implement. I don’t think he’s going to be happy when I tell him that he has to work with _Elves_ ,” Thorin muttered as he shifted some stones that represented Dáin’s men along Erebor’s walls.

“You don’t sound too happy about it either,” Bilbo stated and Thorin turned suddenly, surprised to find the Hobbit standing there, shivering violent despite the fact he was bundled up as warmly as he could be (he had even allowed someone to wrap his feet somewhat, despite having protested it earlier, suggesting he was colder than he would ever admit to being), smiling a tiny bit.

“You shouldn’t be out of the Great Forges,” Thorin stated as he walked over, pulling his coat off as he went and wrapped it securely over the fur Bilbo constantly clutched around his shoulders.

Bilbo buried himself further into the coat (and fur) and Thorin couldn’t resist the urge to carefully place his hand on Bilbo’s head, burying his fingers in the soft curls before he removed his hand and wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders, frowning over the way Bilbo still shivered. “Let’s get you back to the Great Forges. We’ll have our meal there,” Thorin murmured softly and Bilbo nodded, pressing his forehead against Thorin’s shoulder.

“I don’t understand why I am so cold,” Bilbo mumbled softly and Thorin glanced down at Bilbo’s mostly bare feet before he scooped Bilbo up, telling himself that it was to keep the Hobbit’s feet off the cold stone, not because he wanted to hold Bilbo, who wasn’t even protesting being carried like a child.

“It is the cold of this stone,” Thorin murmured softly as he carefully nudged the war room door open with his boot and carefully walked out, holding Bilbo closer as he shuddered violently.

“Maybe,” Bilbo responded, burying his head into Thorin’s shoulder as the King carried his Burglar back to the Great Forges.


	9. War

“Do you think this wise?” Thranduil asked and Thorin resisted the urge to insult the Elf King.

“No, but Azog has sworn to end the Line of Durin. However, with me leading the attack to hopefully break their lines, it might be the thing to draw him out. If not, I’ve already arranged a way to insure that my nephews do not get caught in the battle,” Thorin responded.

“There’s also the fact we’ve turned the ruins of Dale into a trap and every able-bodied man, of age, has been brought in. Of course, Alfrid and the Master of Lake-Town have long since vanished,” Bard answered and Thorin gave a nod.

“The Orcs will not suspect us of setting up such an ambush,” Thorin stated.

“They will also not be expecting a dragon to drop down upon them,” Thranduil added.

“I still doubt the Dragon lives, but we shall--” Thorin responded, only to get cut off by a blond Elf and a red-haired Elf bursting into the room, despite the protests that could still be heard outside.

“My lord, Azog has called for reinforcements from the North. With them are bats, huge bats, prepared for war,” the red-headed Elf reported as the blond nodded in agreement and Thranduil’s head tilted slightly.

“What was the Captain of the Guard and the youngest Prince doing North?” he inquired and the blond Elf, Legolas, shared a look with the red-head.

“I saw Bolog, Azog’s spawn, leaving the battlefield and I followed. Tauriel followed me,” Legolas answered and Thranduil looked to Bard while Thorin let out a sigh.

“We’re going to need more than a, possible, dragon,” Thorin stated and Gandalf stood.

“Help is coming. Radaghast the Brown shall send his assistance,” Gandalf stated.

“Then let us hope it shall come in time,” Thorin answered and he pulled away.

“Let us go to war,” Thorin added and he left the war room.

They had prepared all they could and now they must take action.

* * *

“Kíli, you will not argue with me on this! You are our best archer in the Company, you are one of the _finest_ archers I have ever seen. I need you on the wall!” Thorin intoned as he adjusted his vambrace on his lower right arm.

“You will have me stay behind while my brother, while _our people_ fight in a war on our doorstep?” Kíli argued as he continued to follow Thorin and Fíli.

“Yes,” Thorin answered and Kíli shook his head in time with Fíli.

“I will not abandon my brother Uncle!” Kíli said and Thorin closed his eyes, briefly, remembering how his own father had crumpled under Frerin’s instance that he would go with his elder brother.

That he would fight in a war _with his big brother_.

Not for king or people, but for _Thorin_ and Thorin would not see history repeat itself.

“Kíli, you are a better archer than swordmaster, I am putting you in a position of strength! The war will come to our doorstep and you will help turn it back! I need you there,” Thorin stated and Kíli stared at Fíli and Fíli stared back before he turned to Thorin.

“Uncle, please, don’t separate us! We haven’t been separated since the day Kíli was born, please don’t ask it of us now,” Fíli begged quietly.

Always the quieter of the two and it was a mirror, a fractured mirror, but a mirror all the same of two brothers with switched looks, but same temperaments for the age, same years apart, and Thorin cannot do to Fíli what was done to him.

“Kíli, Fíli, it tears me to separate you two, but I need Kíli on the wall. Please, do this for me, and I will not ever ask you to separate again if you do not desire it, but please, do this for me,” Thorin responded and they wavered…and Kíli nodded.

“Yes Uncle,” he answered and Thorin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding before he pressed his forehead to Kíli’s, then Fíli’s.

“Now, to the wall. And make sure you put the Elves and Men _in-between_ the Dwarves. You know how to set up windows,” Thorin ordered and Kíli nodded before he was gone.

Thorin gave a sigh and turned to Fíli, who watched him. “I promise you, I’ll never ask it of you again,” Thorin swore and Fíli nodded with a small smile before his face became a somber mask once more.

“I believe you Uncle,” he responded and Thorin relaxed before he moved onward.

“Now, I know you were not in the War Room during a bulk of the planning,” Thorin began and Fíli listened close as Thorin explained the plans to Fíli, who would pass it onto the other heads, and hopefully not realize he was being sent far from the vanguard until it was too late for him to get back to his uncle’s side.

* * *

Bilbo stood shakily as he helped to guide people into the warmest parts of the Great Forges. It was, as Balin explained to Bilbo, the easiest to defend place. It forced a bottleneck and those that had even the slightest bit of strength, were able to easily defend.

“Even you could defend it Master Baggins,” Dwalin had said as a parting word and Bilbo had grumbled and clung to his furs and Thorin’s coat and glared, but didn’t contradict the Dwarf.

“Mister Bilbo!” a voice shouted and Bilbo turned in time to get practically tackled by Tilda.

He brought his arms down to hug her, even as he felt Bain step up to his back to keep him from falling backwards with Sigrid. “Children,” he greeted warmly and Tilda buried her face into his shoulder and he pat her hair.

“What’s wrong little one?” he asked, managing to keep his teeth from chattering even as he shivered.

“Father’s gone to fight,” Sigrid explained and Bilbo tightened his arms around Tilda.

He did not offer her platitudes about it all being all right and instead inhaled slowly. “Well, so long as I live within this Mountain, you shall have a place with me,” he offered softly and Tilda clung to him tighter, shaking with sobs as the other two pressed close.

* * *

Smaug flexed his muscles while not leaving the shadows, eyeing the world and staring down.

War had come to Erebor, even if the first charge hadn’t sounded, it was beginning as the dark clouds of Shadow covered the sun.

Smaug settled in to wait.

* * *

Thorin shifted his grip on his sword and breathed for a moment.

Dwalin was at his side, and so was Balin. Most of his Company stood around him, ready to follow him into the fray, into battle, once more.

“Ready the charge,” Thorin ordered and Dwalin let out a shout, throwing up his arm.

Thorin readied himself, focusing on where a gleam of white amongst the brown was in the distance.

And when the Orcs on their Wargs charged forward, Thorin gave the call and charged forward, leading the Dwarves of Erebor.

* * *

Elves and Dwarves clashed against the Orcs in three portions while the Orcs did their best to swarm over like ants over an abandoned carcass. The screams of the dying collected in the air and stretched across it, and then the Orcs entered the city, only for their death screeches, as well as those of Men, join those of Elves and Dwarves.

Smaug tensed and readied himself, uncurling his tail, tensing his wings.

The last of the Orcs had gone past the point of no return, no easy retreat available and Smaug roared to the sky as he shot up into the air, shooting through the Shadow, ignoring the way it clung as he spun up.

For a moment, he hung in the sun, within the sky, above the darkness and Shadow that was the last bit of magic the Creator of His Kind’s favored pupil had before Smaug dived down with a roar, his flames heating in his chest as liquid flame spewed forth to fall over the final line of Orcs, setting fire to what remained of the land.

And the Orcs.

There were screams of pain, fear, surprise.

Smaug let out another roar as he spun back up into the air, brushing against the clouds of Shadow before he unleashed another volley of liquid flame before he dived again, flying close to the ground, using his tail to send Orcs, or worse, which had somehow survived his first two attacks into the air.

They would not survive the third as he pulled up with a low snarl as the Orcs turned, forced to face this foe that had come from the sky.

Crude Orc arrows bounced helplessly off his scales, his wings, everything really, as he climbed into the sky and slammed above the clouds, allowing the sun to break through briefly, having the Orcs, and Goblins, scream for blindness for a few moments before he was climbing higher and going over, mentally measuring and…

He dove again, roaring his fury at the invasion as he dropped, fire spewing forth to drop over the Goblins from the West and with a snarl he landed amongst them, squashing a few.

He twisted and snarled before he spewed forth more liquid fire, ignoring how they screamed at his betrayal and he pulled back. As he shifted to launch himself into the air again, however, a bat hit him in the head.

He snarled and did not hesitate to eat it before he focused on the Deceiver’s own attack from the skies.

And with a roar, Smaug tore into the air, leaving the ground dwellers to deal with those on the ground.

These…winged rats could easily carry of any of their number needed his attention.

* * *

Throin would admit, right up until Smaug had _leapt off the mountain_ , he had doubted Bilbo’s statement Smaug was alive.

Now, with the enemy in turmoil from the unexpected attack, with the dragon fighting _for them_ and turning his fire against Orcs and Goblins and Wargs, and now ripping bats that were almost the size of Smaug’s _head_ apart in the sky, Thorin wondered if maybe he should have actually made a dragon part of the plans.

Admittedly, he was still in shock when he found Azog on the field.

He had been separated from his Company and he adjusted his sword before he charged.

This would end today.

One way or another.

* * *

Thranduil stood with a twist of his sword, slicing through three Orcs before he called up his guard, leading them further into the ruins of Dale that had been turned into a trap for the Orcs.

The Men needed aid.

* * *

Thorin let out a shaky breath as he pulled away from the dead Azog. Shuddering and blinking.

Azog was dead but…

The pain in his chest told Thorin he soon would be as well.

Overhead, the Eagles were shrieking as they flew through the sky, chasing away the sickening dark clouds, and suddenly there was a shadow. “Do not think I do this for _you_ ,” a dark voice growled and Thorin was suddenly held in a claw before he was in the air as darkness took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for separating, initially, Fili and Kili. It didn't stay so, they were found next to each other, alive, don't worry.
> 
> YES, everyone we love lives, and Dain is going to be awesome and supportive.
> 
> Because Dain is awesome. Also, hilarious.


	10. The Immediate Aftermath of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story.
> 
> I lost, literally, all of my Hobbit fics. And since most of them were coming up on being finished, rough draft wise, I _really_ hadn't wanted to rewrite them so I let them sit.
> 
> However, now that I have found it, including plot notes and everything else, guess what I can write again?
> 
> That's right.
> 
> My Tolkien fics.

When the roar had echoed through the Mountain, obviously from a dragon, all three of the children had crowded closer to Bilbo. He hadn’t hesitated to do his best to comfort them, even as he stared up, smiling slightly.

He had known, of course he had, but it was nice to hear it confirmed. “You think the dragon’s going to help the Orcs?” Tilda asked softly and Bilbo shook his head before he looked down at Tilda, whose eyes widened.

“No, Tilda, Smaug will not help the Orcs. If he does, I shall be quite displeased with him,” Bilbo answered softly and she frowned.

“Displeased?” Tilda asked softly.

“Smaug and I made a deal. To break his word would be…ill-advised and he well knows it,” Bilbo responded, ignoring how Bain flinched slightly and Sigrid practically flinched _away_.

“Will he protect Da too?” Tilda asked softly and Bilbo considered.

“In his own way,” Bilbo answered and Tilda nodded, burying her head against Bilbo’s chest and Bilbo held her close, even as Sigrid slowly settled back against him and Bain relaxed again.

“He really won’t hurt Da?” Bain asked quietly.

“Not intentionally,” Bilbo responded and the elder two relaxed a bit more at that.

* * *

The Mountain is silent for a long time before Bofur comes with Bifur to tell them that the battle is over. Immediately those with healing skills that are not needed here are moving forward, Sigrid among them. Tilda makes a soft sound, but Sigrid smiles warmly and hugs her before sending her back to Bilbo, and then she is gone.

Bofur, however, has made his way over to Bilbo. “I know, I know, stay here,” Bilbo stated with a small shiver and Bofur grins.

“Aye, Bilbo, stay here. Besides, you got to watch all the young ones,” Bofur added and Bifur nodded in agreement as he moved forward to tug the furs more around Bilbo’s shoulders, grumbling at him.

Bilbo just relaxed back before Bofur, and Bifur with some tugging, took off again.

“Don’t you _dare_ Bain!” Bilbo warned and Bain stilled before he sighed and slumped against Bilbo with a grumble.

* * *

Sigrid pushed some of her hair out of her face with her shoulder before she focused on her just cleaned bandages. She had been running around and helping out and stitching and wrapping and grinding since she had volunteered. She had assisted Dwarves and Elves and Men, never stopping and she barely remembered if she had stopped for lunch or not before she had moved onto cleaning bandages.

Those healthy enough were moving the bodies, either to be buried or burned were doing so, but she had admitted to not having the stomach for handling the dead, which only had the Healers nodding in understanding and setting her to cleaning the bandages.

As she flung the last of her cleaned bandages over the set of lines, in the room off the side of the Great Forges, she heard her father’s shout of, “Sigrid!”

She turned and let out a joyful shout of “Da!” and she was across the room, hugging him tight and barely noticing how he was only hugging her with one arm.

“Everyone all right?” he asked as she pulled back slightly.

“Fighting never even entered the Mountain but…I have to tell you something,” Sigrid stated and she carefully led him to the side.

Her father frowned and ducked his head slightly, while Sigrid noted that his left arm was in a sling and there were stitches along his forehead, but otherwise he was unharmed. She gave a small nod upon seeing that and she pulled him by his right arm till they were out of the way while others who had washed out bandages worked on hanging them up as well. “What is it?” he asked softly.

“Bilbo made the deal with the dragon,” Sigrid stated and her father started slightly before he let out a sigh and nodded a bit.

“I suspected as much. Have you told anyone else?” he inquired and Sigrid shook her head.

“Good, keep it between us, until Bilbo lets everyone know,” Bard answered and Sigrid nodded before Bard hugged her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“All right, I am going to go check on the other two before I turn to…being King,” Bard responded with a wince and then he was gone, while Sigrid stood in shock at the idea of being a _princess_.

“King of _what_?” she asked herself before she shook her head and went to collect the dry bandages to bring to the Healers.

* * *

Óin sighed as he sat back and let Elf healers take over the care of Thorin.

Smaug had deposited Thorin before Óin in a rush of wind what felt like only moments. He had barely even made sure Thorin still breathed before he took to the skies to chase down those of the enemy Armies that thought they could escape a dragon’s wrath.

“How is he?” Balin asked, having been released by other healers and Óin let out a sigh.

“Bad, but if he remains stubborn, he’ll come through. He is strong, well fed, and well rested before going into battle, so it is mostly his pride that got him into this mess,” Óin reported and Balin nodded, even as Dwalin strode into the tent with a limp.

“The princes?” Óin asked.

Balin sighed. “Kíli left the wall to find his brother and they are unsure if he will keep his left leg, and Fíli will most likely lose his sight in his left eye and he will never dual wield again, his left arm being completely damaged,” Balin stated and Óin nodded.

“Thorin won’t be happy about Kíli having left the wall,” the Dwarf healer stated and Balin nodded in agreement.

* * *

Sigrid collapsed onto her bedroll that night, surprised to find that everyone was being settled throughout the Great Forges and that Bilbo was still amongst them that evening. “And when will you be leaving us Mister Baggins?” her father asked softly as he sat near Bilbo.

“When Smaug comes back. I’m freezing and he seems to be the only thing in the world that is warm enough to keep me from shivering like mad,” Bilbo answered and her father nodded before settling back to sleep, Bain and Tilda clinging to him like they were afraid he would disappear.

Sigrid was just too exhausted to do the same.

* * *

Bilbo shivered as he, carefully, dragged Sigrid on her bedroll over to Bard’s side. He smiled at the way she curled up more towards Bard and Bilbo smiled at the family. He had grown so attached in Lake-town. He had wanted to bundle them up and keep them safe, and warm and fed. He had wanted to drag them all back to the Shire, but he knew they would never be happy there.

Duty to a lost city and a past that had only been a distant tale in Bard’s childhood kept him here and now that loyalty was being rewarded, even if he didn’t want it. Bilbo shivered and wrapped his furs more around him, with Thorin’s coat and, slowly, brought his hands up to bury his nose into Bofur’s gloves.

He still wanted to take care of Bard and his family. He still wanted to see them safe and warm and…

Bilbo took a breath and slowly shifted, ready to pull away, only to start when he felt a tug pulling him back. Bilbo turned slightly and blinked in surprise to find that Bard was holding onto him by Thorin’s coat. “Master Bard?” Bilbo questioned softly and let out a startled sound when Bard tugged at him hard enough to bring him fully back to the family’s area.

“You aren’t allowed to leave us quite yet Mister Baggins,” Bard stated.

“Bard…” Bilbo stated and Bard gently pulled him back into the family group.

“I know who made the deal. I _know_ , and you’ve been good to my children. Don’t go, not until you must,” Bard responded and Bilbo let out a long sigh, shivered, and slowly joined Bard and his family, curling up into the warmth provided by the Great Forges.

And he wondered how the Dwarves had faired.


	11. Bilbo Goes to Speak with Smaug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Hey, I have Chapter 11 done.
> 
> Cool. It was sitting there, on my memory stick, fully proper.
> 
> Nice.

Smaug hovered amongst the healing tents, signs of the heat rising off of him in the cold winter air, but he didn’t stir from his place, of heating the tents, even as he stared at the Mountain. Occasionally, his wings flexed, and, occasionally, he demanded the Wargs to be brought to him instead of burned, but otherwise he remained, with those who cannot risk being moved, his heat providing the warmth to keep them from dying from the cold.

He otherwise ignored them all, always watching the Mountain and, occasionally, flicking his tail so that it is in the Elf King’s way, inhaling deeply every time he does so.

No one questioned it, though many suspected it was because no one wanted to know, though once the dragon growled, low and deep in his chest before he lowered his head to glare at the closest Dwarf, Balin.

“Will the Idiot King live?” Smaug demanded.

“Yes,” Balin answered and Smaug snorted as he lifted his head.

“Then it shall be worth being _demeaned_ as a furnace,” he grumbled and went back to staring at the Mountain and ignoring all who moved about him.

Except the Elf King, who still had to deal with a dragon’s tail sometimes getting in his way.

* * *

When Thranduil walked into the Great Forges, Bilbo wondered if he was lost. The people of Laketown and Bilbo had turned this place into a miniature village, meant to support, more or less, those who could be spared keeping up with the cooking and cleaning of the area as, slowly, other parts of the Mountain were cleared, shored up, and otherwise made habitable for _any_ who needed shelter from the elements.

The Healing Houses were first, of course, and the quickest to do so, having found only time had done any damage to them. The only difficult part was ‘sending’ the heat into them, and now they are filled with those that are injured and can be moved.

Since, they’ve worked at clearing the living quarters, or what can be turned into living quarters, the main focus being on those for the Men and Elves that used to visit in the Mountain.

Bofur, grinning like the mad-dwarf that he was, explained that they could fit more that way than if they just focused on the deeper, Dwarvish, dwellings, though he frowned sharply when he mentioned it.

(“That’s why so many were lost, Bilbo. Dwarves find safety in being deep in their mountains, so the dragon stopped ‘em in their tracks,” Bofur had whispered and Bilbo’s stomach had turned to bile at the time and even now made him shake.)

However, as Thranduil looked around the room, he stilled upon seeing Bilbo and marched toward him. Bain moved quickly, shifting to stand at Bilbo’s right. Bain quickly pulled Bilbo back behind him slightly and a, small, shield against the towering, ice cold fury of Thranduil.

The only reason Bilbo doesn’t shrink back from him is due to the fact Bain is there and he promised himself he would keep them safe. “You will come with me _Halfling_ ,” Thranduil stated and his hand snapped out to grab his arm and Bilbo pushed back and--

There is a roar.

It is distant, but not overly so, and Thranduil’s hand snaps back, even as Bain stepped pointedly between Thranduil and Bilbo once more. “What do you want with Mister Baggins?” Bain demanded and Tilda is clinging to Thorin’s coat.

“That _dragon_ ,” Thranduil hissed and Bilbo let out a groan.

“For the love of the Garden Aunt,” he hissed, gently grabbing Tilda’s hand and Bain’s as he began his march out of the mountain of stupidity and romanticism to where Smaug, hopefully, was.

He had been wondering where the dragon had gone.

* * *

“You _oaf_ of a dragon!” Bilbo shouted as he marched out of Erebor, shivering the entire while, Bain and Tilda trailing after him.

Smaug snarled and lowered his head. “I should have _eaten_ that Elf! The next time he comes in reach I shall fling him aside like an Orc!” Smaug snarled, even as he lifted his head to snap at the Mountain and Bilbo kicked slushy snow at the dragon, which caused it to sizzle and drew the Dragon’s gaze back down upon him.

“He’s big,” Tilda whispered.

“He’s a Dragon, dear. They’re supposed to be,” Bilbo answered and Smaug slowly lowered his head again.

“The Decedents of the Bowman,” Smaug intoned lowly and Bilbo shuddered from the cold and the heat at once.

Ugh, this was worse than the Great Forges and Smaug grumbled.

“What are you doing out here? You should be inside,” Smaug snapped.

“Well, the Elf King entered the Mountain, and he was complaining about you. I thought you were being a large, overgrown, bratling,” Bilbo responded and Smaug bared his teeth at Bilbo’s words.

“Being the Bearer of my Young does not mean you can say what you wish to me!” Smaug snarled.

“Being the Bearer of _our_ Young was _my_ choice to begin with, oh Chiefest and Greatest Calamity of our Age,” Bilbo retorted and Smaug seemed to preen before he remembered he was upset with Bilbo.

“Get over here,” he grumbled suddenly and Bilbo squeaked to find himself suddenly carefully absconded with, along with Tilda, between Smaug’s great claws, right up against his chest, which glowed faintly.

“Oh,” Tilda breathed and clung to Bilbo and Samug snorted, but had gone back to ignoring all, even when Bain made his way to them.

When Smaug went to _hit_ Thranduil with his tail sometime later, Bilbo smacked his chest sleepily and the tail carefully settled back on the ground.

It was only when the sun began to lower that Smaug lit a travelling firepit made by the Dwarves and ordered all three back to the Mountain.

“The snows come fast, and I shall be sending a mist across this land before the night grows old,” Smaug grumbled and Bilbo nodded before he ushered the children back into the Mountain.

And Smaug slammed his tail down right in front of Thranduil the minute Bilbo was too far away to do anything about it.

“Be _have_ Smaug!” Bilbo shouted and Smaug growled, even as he used his tail to trip the Elf King, inhaling his scent of fear.

 _Everyone_ would learn the price of trying to harm that which was _Smaug’s_.

Even if it was greatly reduced one due to the sensitive nature of _Hobbits_.


End file.
